They do these things better in the private sector

A new timetable was introduced for many of Britain’s railways back in May. And most of the system affected promptly fell apart. Trains were delayed, many were cancelled, and passengers who depended on the service were left stranded.

Now the Office and Road and Rail, the regulator for the railways in Britain, has published a report identifying the train companies primarily responsible for the disruption, but also blaming the Minister of Transport, Chris Grayling. He, however, has immediately declared himself blameless in the matter – Trumpism is becoming commonplace – since it was not for him to overrule the opinions of professionals.

Chris Grayling: 'trouble on the railways? Nothing to do with me, pal.'
He only heads the Ministry responsible

Railway professionals are, of course, the people that railway companies employ. If they’re employed by a public body, then they’re civil servants, and civil servants haven’t the faintest idea what they’re doing. They tend to be classics graduates from the older universities, and while Homer holds no secrets from them, running a railway is a closed book.

That’s true even if they’re actually the same people.

Why is this so?

Essentially, the private sector, because it’s oriented towards the making of profit, has to be driven by efficiency in a way that the public sector simply isn’t. That’s why things go so much better when they’re privatised than when they’re nationalised. Like, for instance, the railways in Britain.

To illustrate this point, I want to give a glowing example of how much more effective the private sector is, based on an experience of my own some years back.

This is a true story. I’ve made nothing up. All I’ve done is hide some of the details: I need to protect the guilty, and particularly to protect myself from vengeance which, in this case, would be harsh indeed.

My manager in this particular company was undoubtedly an expert in the field. We knew that – after all, we knew his background and we knew his qualifications. Trust me, they were outstanding.

As it happens, had we not known it, he would have told us pretty fast. In fact, he did tell us. He took the whole team, at least a dozen strong if I remember, for an awayday conference, but not just in the English countryside – we had to go abroad. There he pulled us together in a windowless room and regaled us with a detailed account of his talents.

‘I’m very good at what I do,’ he started off by telling us.

Well, how could anyone doubt it, once he’d made it so explicit?

For the next couple of days – yes, it was a an away-day-or-four – he ran us through a list of all the major orders he was about to take for our product. I don’t remember exactly how many there were, but there were certainly more than ten though probably under fifteen.

Some of them, to be quite honest, seemed a little dodgy. I mean, I couldn’t help feeling he was being a trifle optimistic. And, well, you know, you have to tell truth to power. So I mentioned that I had some reservations about a few of those prospects.

Sadly, I was already not very popular with my manager. A troublemaker was how he saw me. And that was before I’d had the gall to contradict him in front of his faithful followers. With that, the guillotine fell. It was only a matter of time before he and I parted ways.

When that happened, I’m not sure which of us was the more satisfied. I’ve never been terribly impressed by people who have to tell me how good they are at what they do – I’ve often felt, naively, that it ought to be obvious from the way they do it. As it happens, of all the ten or fifteen orders he was hoping to win, his count of success could be summed up by a nice round number. Not one had come in.

I’ve worked in the private sector for 35 years. I’ve had great experiences, with excellent managers and outstanding colleagues. I’ve also had some real nightmares.

The result? When I see things failing lamentably in the private sector, I’m not surprised. Just as I’m not surprised when things succeed gloriously. It’s all down to the people working on them, and there are people in the private sector who are very good at what they do, as there are people who only tell you they’re very good.

Just like the public sector, in fact.

Minor mishaps, gentle charms of an encounter with officialdom

On Friday I had a call from a government organisation with whom I had an appointment today.

“I’m ringing to confirm that we expect to see you at 12:00 on Monday,” a well-spoken woman told me, “please go to the second floor and see Jackie.”

I should explain to any American readers that over here the first floor is the first above ground level. The second floor is what you call the third.

I turned up quarter of an hour early and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Some of the desks displayed names: Paula, Mary, Gloria. No men, I noticed. But also no Jackie.

So I approached a security guard. He was from a private company but seemed to know a bit about the place.

“Jackie? First floor,” he told me.

“First floor? They told me second.” 

He shrugged and made a gesture with his hand, like a mouth opening and shutting.

“Sometimes people say any old rubbish,” he explained. Helpfully, I felt.

Down I went. Again, though, I couldn’t find a “Jackie” nameplate. Fortunately, I did find another security guard.

“Jackie? She’s over there,” he told me.

She was busy with the woman she was seeing before me.

“Is this your first appointment here?” the security guard asked me.

“Yes,” I confirmed, though it was pretty obvious, I thought.

“Ah, you need to go to the third floor first anyway.”

Up I climbed.

Second floor? First floor? Third floor?
At least I was getting some useful exercise...

“I have an appointment with Jackie, but I was told to come and see you first,” I told the pleasant woman who greeted me.

She riffled through some papers and glanced at a screen.

“Yes, you have an appointment with Jackie at 12:00,” she told me, rather unnecessarily.

It was five to. I was beginning to run out of the time margin I’d left myself.

“Should I sort out what I have to do with you first?”

“Oh, no, Jackie will deal with it all. She’s on the first floor.”

I must have looked a little exasperated, because she immediately made an offer which was surely beyond the call of duty.

“Shall I take you down there and show you where she sits?”

Very good of her, I felt. But unnecessary, since I already been there once.

Down I went again. By the time I got there I was bang on time. But Jackie wasn’t ready: her previous appointment was asking lots of questions that, in my opinion, seemed completely irrelevant but Jackie was answering with, it seemed to me, great forbearance.

By five past twelve, the inquisitive woman could think of no further questions for Jackie and left. I stepped forward, but Jackie’s manager slipped in before I could get to her. There followed a ten minute discussion about abstruse functions, clearly not working as one might expect, on the computer system they were using (software that doesn’t work precisely as specified? Who ever heard of such a thing?)

Finally, at a quarter past, I got my appointment.

It went smoothly and easily. Jackie was polite, helpful, well-informed and even, since the appointment lasted longer than I expected, ate into her own lunch hour to give me my allotted time.

I have no complaints at all. In fact I was delighted with the excellent service.

As well as amused by the way it started.